


our eyes speak (but on our lips is silence)

by Hanaasbananas



Series: Hanaa's Bollywood Playlist [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Adrinette | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Identity Reveal, aged up to around 20 here, never met as civilians before, these two can't stop staring at each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaasbananas/pseuds/Hanaasbananas
Summary: The reveal does not come mid battle. It does not come from an injury, or a forgotten timer. There is absolutely nothing magical about it. But perhaps that is the most magical thing of all.Adrien meets Marinette, and there is no need for words.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Hanaa's Bollywood Playlist [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818835
Comments: 46
Kudos: 558





	our eyes speak (but on our lips is silence)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maketea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maketea/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!! 
> 
> (I know it's late but it's not midnight yet so shhh) All the headcanons you've been posting lately on tumblr inspired me to write some cute fluff and also I watched Laila Majnu again the other day which made me want to write this. 
> 
> This is kind of an experiment since i've never written in this style before so it's probably not as good as my other stuff, but I had fun with it so...hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> Title from the song:  
> [Tum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t900b-LyuEg) and a lot of the concept comes from the video

_“Do you think we know each other? Outside of the masks, I mean”_

_“Unlikely”_

_“Wow you didn’t even have to think about that one. You’ve never even considered it?”_

_“Chat_ how _many people are there in Paris? The chances of us running in the same social circles are practically microscopic”_

_“I guess…”_

_“Even if we did, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t recognise each other anyway”_

* * *

_He’s a stranger, he’s a stranger, he’s a stranger,_ Marinette keeps chanting in her head but who is she kidding? She knew as soon as she laid eyes on him, when she accidentally bumped him on her way into the church and he turned those achingly familiar green eyes on her, making her stumble in her heels and grab onto Alya to hold herself up. 

An invisible string pulls at her and she can’t help but look over her shoulder at him, at her _Chaton_ , wants to see the moment he realises the strange girl staring back at him is his Lady but then they’re inside the church and he’s still outside and there are so many people between them but her heart is thumping so loudly in her chest she’s sure that everyone can hear it. 

* * *

_“You can’t know that. Saving the city together for six years and you don’t think we’d recognise each other without a dumb mask on? Where’s your optimism?”_

_“Remember when I was Lady Noir?”_

_“You think I’d forget that? I dreamt about it for_ weeks _afterwards”_

_“Yeah? Well. I don’t have green eyes”_

* * *

Adrien’s cousin is getting married. Félix is getting married right _now_ and he should be paying attention to the ceremony, not the girl sitting on the bride's side whose eyes keep flickering to meet his before darting away again, a light blush dusting her cheeks. 

It’s adorable.

Félix is the one getting married and yet Adrien is the one feeling like it’s the best day of his life. Like he’s won the jackpot, like every single good thing in the world has happened to him at once. Because that’s his Lady. 

His Lady who was so sure that they would never know the other unless they detransformed right in front of each other. His Lady, looking back at him like he’s the only other person in the room, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. 

(He can hardly believe it either)

He wants to whoop, to shout, to laugh, run into the crowd and sweep her up into his arms but the officiant is still droning on and on, reminding him that now is not the time to be Chat Noir.

So instead he keeps his eyes on hers and inclines his head a little, quirks an eyebrow and lets a smirk flicker at the corner of his mouth. 

* * *

_“Oh”_

_“See what I mean? Even if we did run into each other, I doubt we’d realise. There’s so many little things the miraculous changes that we probably haven’t even noticed”_

_“So what, you think we’ll never meet as ourselves?”_

* * *

He was _teasing_ her, smirking as if to say _oh ye of little faith._ She wants to scowl at him but the smile tugging at her lips won’t let her. There’s a strange pressure in her chest releasing a fluttery feeling that bubbles up into her throat and she feels like she might dissolve into hysterical giggles any second. 

So she ducks her head, forcing herself to look away, before her face explodes into a blush she can’t explain. He doesn’t. His gaze remains steadily on hers throughout the ceremony; laughter in his eyes and a smile ticking at his lips every time she chances a glance up at him; making goosebumps rise on her skin. 

She blinks, and the ceremony is over. Standing with everyone else, she feels lightheaded, noticing for the first time the people around her, their applause ringing in her ears seemingly from a great distance. 

Everybody is applauding the newlywed couple at the altar. No-one is looking at the groomsmen. No-one is looking at her. So she lets herself meet his eyes, lets herself smile. Marinette can’t help it, no matter how hard she tries to suppress the pull at her lips, they stretch into a wide smile, almost hurting her cheeks. 

But everyone is smiling, everyone is clapping. Her grin is not out of place. 

And if anyone notices that her sights are not fixed on the bride and groom, they don’t say a word. After all, she is not the only one distracted. 

* * *

_“I wouldn’t say_ that” 

_“Because if you met me-the_ real _me, I can absolutely guarantee that you would fall for me immediately”_

_“That suggests the idea that I haven’t fallen for you already”_

* * *

It’s like a magnetic force, wherever she goes, his eyes follow; tracking her across the room, unable to look away for fear that she will disappear. But she’s still here. 

Adrien gives the best man speech, keeping his attention on Félix —it is his wedding, after all—but his ears pick out her laughter from the crowd, sounding a little startled, a little surprised when she recognises the jokes he practised on her during patrol for this very occasion and he has to resist the urge to find her in the crowd and give his signature Chat Noir grin. 

Félix claps him on the back in thanks and Adrien gives him a one armed hug, hardly listening to what his cousin is saying in his ear. Over Félix's shoulder, Adrien meets his Lady’s eyes again, and they are _gleaming._

* * *

_“M-my Lady?”_

_“You heard me”_

* * *

Objectively, Marinette knew he was attractive. Just like she knew she was in love with him, had been for years now. She’d just...boxed those facts away, pressed them down into a trunk with other memories.

Like the memory of kissing him that one time, how good it had felt to have his hands on her waist, pulling her flush against his hard chest, his lips on hers…

She’d tucked them all away, shoving them into the darkest corner of her mind and let them gather dust as she continued to live happily in denial. 

Except this isn’t Chat. This is his civilian identity. The one she never knew, the one she never had to hide her attraction to, _because she’d never met him_. 

And now the latch on the trunk is broken and her thoughts have finally sprung free and they’re giving her ideas, terrible ideas that she should dismiss immediately but…

_God_ , he’s so sinfully attractive. She’d thought she might just have a thing for boys in black leather but over the course of the day it’s become increasingly more apparent that she just has a thing for _Chat._

He’s taken his suit jacket off, rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal forearms that should be _illegal_ and the green vest he’s wearing makes his eyes seem so much brighter as he watches her from the bar across the room, leaning against it like he owns the place. 

Alya nudges her and tilts her head towards Chat with a sly grin. They both look over and he lifts his hand, waving his fingers at them. Her face flames and Alya guffaws in her ear but she doesn’t look away. 

Instead, she raises her own eyebrows, and issues a challenge.

* * *

_“What do you want me to say? That I may or may not have contracted feelings for you?”_

_“Contracted? You make it sound like it’s a disease”_

_“Isn’t it? It’s a weakness we can’t afford, right now”_

* * *

Behind him, the doors open and waiters stream into the room, carrying trays of cake and coffee for the wedding guests. Seizing his chance Adrien follows behind the waiter about to serve her table, slinging an arm over the man's shoulder and taking the tray from his hands. 

_Challenge accepted._

Adrien walks around the table, serving the others without breaking eye contact with her. Her eyes follow him until he’s right beside her and she ducks her head, her hair falling over her face in an inky curtain.

He’s never seen her hair down before, and it’s beautiful. He itches to run his fingers through it, to feel the silky strands between his fingertips. Maybe she’ll let him play with her hair on patrol sometime. Maybe he’ll be running his fingers through it before then in a dark corner later in the evening. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Reaching into his vest, he pulls out a napkin, folding it in half quickly and sliding it underneath the saucer he puts in front of her. 

She doesn’t look up, but his eyes dart down to the table and he reads the name on her place card, mouthing it to himself as he makes his way back to the bar. 

_Marinette._

What a beautiful name. 

* * *

_“Right now? But-what about later?”_

_“I don’t know, Chat. I really don’t. I’m sorry. I wish I could give you a better answer”_

* * *

Unfolding the napkin, Marinette can’t help her smile. On it, he’d drawn a line of ten dashes, followed by a question mark and she laughs out loud. 

That silly cat. 

Raising her head, she looks up at him across the room, gives him her most deadpan look. _Really?_ He shrugs, grinning but she sees the way his shoulders tense underneath his vest, knows he’s desperate to see what she’ll do. 

Shaking her head slightly, she purses her lips, rolls her eyes. Moving slowly, deliberately, so he can see her every movement, she pulls a pen out of her purse and jots down her number. Folding it up again, she dabs at her lips casually, as if wiping away cake crumbs, pressing just hard enough to leave a lipstick print. 

* * *

_“Hey, hey, hey, my lady, don’t cry, it’s alright you know I don’t mind waiting”_

_“But_ I _do! I just want this to be over, I want to know who you are, I want to not have any more_ stupid secrets!” 

* * *

The last bite of cake has only just passed her lips and he’s already striding across the room to collect her dishes, throwing a wink her way and pulling the napkin from underneath her plate.

Some might say he’s being foolish, he’s being too eager, but Adrien’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, and he’s waited for this day for so long...he thinks he’s entitled to be a little eager. 

He opens the napkin, slowly, almost reverentially, and almost sighs with relief when he sees the digits on the paper. 

He has her number. _He has her number!_ Adrien feels like the king of the world-no the _emperor_ of the universe, holding the world in the palm of his hand. 

Looking up from the napkin he sees that she’s still watching him and he grins. Thumping a fist over his heart, he pretends to fall backwards, as though he’s been struck by cupid. He hears her laugh and he cracks an eye open to look at her. She- _Marinette_ , he reminds himself _-_ has covered her mouth to smother her giggles, her bluebell eyes trained on him, sparkling with mirth, her cheeks rosy pink. 

And all he can think, is: _at last_

* * *

_“Hey, c’mon. This isn’t forever, you know.”_

_“You don’t know that”_

_“I do,_ actually. _One day, when the time is right, we'll meet each other as ourselves, and when that happens, we'll be together and we won't have to worry about secrets, or anything else. It'll be just us. Together"_

* * *

Her phone lights up with a new message: _Roof?_

Marinette grins. 

Excusing herself; blushing at Alya’s waggling eyebrows and shouts to _use protection!_ She hurries out of the hotel and round the back to find a deserted corner to transform. The party is in full swing, music pounding loudly in the air every time the doors open, laughter and shouting spilling out into the quiet night as people escape into the street.

Transforming, she swings up onto the roof, looking out over Paris, and she waits. 

* * *

_“One day. You promise?”_

* * *

She gets there first. When he lands on the roof with a quiet thump, she’s standing, a dark silhouette against the sky. Her hair isn’t in the signature pigtails anymore, instead its, open, fluttering in the breeze. 

Ladybug- _Marinette_ turns to him and for a moment they simply stare at each other, as they had done all day. And then, as one, they step towards each other.

She stands stock still, hardly breathing, her eyes following his movements until gently, he tilts her chin up, and kisses her. 

* * *

_“I promise”_


End file.
